


A History in Midwinter

by missberrycake



Series: Direction!Who Trilogy [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), One Direction (Band)
Genre: (don't worry it's still super Christmassy), (see end notes for more information on both), A Christmas Carol, AU, Adventure, Alien!Niall, Christmas, Christmas Carol!AU, Christmas!fic, Companion!Harry, Companion!Louis, Companion!Zayn, Doctor Who AU, Doctor Who!AAU, Doctor Who!AU, Frozen!Louis, M/M, Novella, One Direction Doctor Who AU, One Direction Doctor Who!AU, Science Fiction, Scrooge!Harry, TARDIS - Freeform, Time Travel, Warning: Terminal Illness, Warning: Violence Against a Child, companion!liam, doctor!niall, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberrycake/pseuds/missberrycake
Summary: On every world, wherever people are, in the deepest part of the winter everybody stops and turns and hugs, as if to say, well done. We're halfway out of the dark. On Earth, this was called Christmas. 
Harry called it expecting something for nothing. There were three things in this life that Harry coveted. Money and control and fear. Christmas did not enter into that equation. That was, until he met the Doctor.It took one Christmas Eve to change Harry’s past. All he needed was to fall in love. But the truth was, when you fell, something was bound to break.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A surprise conclusion to my Direction!Who trilogy. Just in time for Christmas! This one is a little different, as it’s much more of a straight translation to the realm of fanfiction, which is what I intended.
> 
> This is my favourite Christmas episode of Doctor Who ever, and writing Harry and Louis into the story put me well and truly into the Christmas mood. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays to all. Pip x
> 
> And here’s an idea! If you want, stream ‘Just Hold On’ while reading this story! Let’s get Louis that Christmas No.1! Find out more at [Project Just Hold On](https://projectjholdon.tumblr.com/).

_On every world, wherever people are, in the deepest part of the winter, at the exact mid-point, everybody stops and turns and hugs, as if to say, well done._

_Well done, everyone. We're halfway out of the dark._

_Back on Earth, we called this Christmas, or the Winter Solstice. On this world, the first settlers called it the Crystal Feast._

_You know what I call it? I call it expecting something for nothing._

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

From the window of his large estate, Harry watched the snow flutter down to the ground in delicate swirls, a gentle waltz to let the town know Christmas was closeby.

The town was his, named for his father and generations before.

He owned it, just like he owned the skies above them.

Outside the thick clouds were darkening above the low rooftops. The Manor House stood proud at the heart of the town, towering over everything else, its domed roof a symbol of the power of the Styles name. From the top of the Manor House, the dazzling beam of energy sparkled where it reached up into the sky, keeping the town safe.

“Please, Master Styles,” the pleading voice of one of the townsfolk waivered in the vast room. “It’d just be for the one day. Just for Christmas. He always loved - He loves Christmas.”

Harry ignored the him. He was nobody; a pauper, dragging himself from the streets to beg off the Styles estate. They were cockroaches, all of them. His gaze fell on a scruffy boy running through the crowds outside. A street rat, no doubt. His small face was illuminated by the flickering orange street lamps, tired and dirty like his tattered clothes.

They brought it on themselves, the families that came begging. Too many children, too lazy to work, too stupid to succeed.

Day and night they clawed at his door, demanding gold they had no claim to.

It was only when the heavy Cryochamber was wheeled into the room that Harry turned to face the family cowering by the door. The Cryochamber was a heavy iron creation, like a metallic coffin. Bolted shut, a large lock hung at the door, keeping its contents secure.

The family were all bundled up in flimsy fabric, shoulders stooped low surrounded by the luxurious extravagance of the Styles drawing room. The man was dressed in his work clothes still, coat covered in soot, flat cap clenched tightly in his hands. Did he have no shame? Coming here and asking Harry to flout their agreement? Harry was an honourable man. He would stick to their terms.

The woman, Harry assumed it was his wife, pulled her thin cloak closer to her shoulders, dirty hair falling around her face.

He wrinkled his nose and approached the Cryochamber. His long legs carried him across the darkened room in a short few steps. Behind the tiny glass window the face of a young man came into view. He was frozen in sleep, skin white, frost settled on his hair and his eyelashes, thin lips blue with the cold. Harry stared at the delicate arch of the man’s eyebrows for a moment before his attention was drawn to the reflection of his own face in the glass. The deep scowl on his face lined his skin, his tired eyes dark against pale skin. He wasn’t old, not really, but he was beginning to realise we wasn’t young anymore, either. The hair greying at his temples mocked his lonely existence.

He flexed his jaw.

“He loves Christmas, does he?” he said. His voice was loud and warm in the dimness. It surprised people, he knew, that his voice could be so smooth and gentle even as he was turning people out into the cold. “Well, that changes everything.” His lips pulled back into a sneer as he rapped on the Cryochamber door. “Wakey, wakey. It's Christmas,” he sang. The man inside stayed silent, eyelids closed.

Harry turned to the family with a self-satisfied grin. “Do you know what? I don’t think he gives a damn about it.”

In the corner one of his servants chuckled obediently and he felt a wave a irritation rise in his chest.

“He's frozen.”

The small voice seemed to come from behind the legs of the woman. Harry watched as the young boy stepped out from the safety of his mother’s shadow, his scarf tied securely around his throat.

“He's what?” Harry snapped.

“He's in the ice,” the little boy replied, small chin raised in defiance. “He can't hear you.”

“Oh,” Harry drawled as his father tried to quieten him. “What a clever little boy. You must be so irritated.” He settled his gaze on the older man, who fidgeted under the scrutiny. “How much?” he called out.

A moment later, a servant appeared next to him, brandishing a minature clockwork machine. A short ream of parchment fell from one end and the servant examined it closely. “The Dosett account, Sir, it's four thousand five hundred credits.”

Harry ran a finger across one of his cufflinks, the gold surface smudging under his skin. “You took a loan of four thousand five hundred credits, and Mister Christmas over here is my security.” He nodded to the Cryochamber housing the frozen man.

“We're not asking for him back,” Mr Dosett started. “It’s only one day. Let him have Christmas with his family.”

The ringing of the telephone interrupted the silent look Harry was sending to the other man. Rushing to answer, his servant brought the speaker to his ear. Eyes wide, he bowed his head towards Harry. “Sir, it's the President,” he spluttered.

“Tell him I'm busy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the sorry looking family. He enjoyed it when they talked back. It meant he could have fun with them, that they’d brought it upon themselves. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” He stepped closer to the Cryochamber, tracing the jaw of the frozen man against the glass. “He's handsome, though, your son.” He sent a leering smile towards Mr Dosett. “Maybe I should keep him.”

The man seemed to flounder, his eyes darting between the frozen chamber and Harry. “He's not my son, Master Styles.”

“He's my brother,” the woman spoke up. Her eyes were glassy and Harry found his patience wearing thin. “He volunteered for the ice when the family were in difficulties many years ago.”

“Sorry, Sir,” the servant interrupted, lip shaking as he did so. “The President says there's a galaxy class ship trapped in the cloud layer and, well, we have to let it land.”

“Or?” Harry snapped.

The servant hesitated. “Well, or it'll crash, Sir.”

Harry huffed, turning from the scene to stand in front of the large, empty fireplace. He narrowed his eyes, gaze boring into the brick at the back of the hearth. “Well, that's a kind of landing, isn't it?”

There was a beat of silence before the servant croaked, “It's from Earth, Sir. Registering over four thousand lifeforms on board.”

Harry folded his arms. “Not if we wait a bit,” he muttered.

“You can't just let it crash, Sir,” his servant gasped.

A strange whirring sound echoed down the chimney though Harry was too riled up to take any notice. “Says who?” he shouted, rounding on the servant, who stumbled over his feet in a rush to escape. “Give it here.” He snatched the telephone out of the servant’s hand and roared into the receiver, “You listen to me, we already have a surplus population. No more people allowed on this planet. I make the rules here, no exceptions.” He slammed the receiver back into place. “Right, you lot,” he waved his hand at the Dosetts, still standing hopelessly in his drawing room. “Poor people, get out. Go home and pray for a miracle, or whatever it is you do when you don’t have a chance.”

As the words tumbled out of this mouth, an explosion of soot bellowed out of the chimney. It covered the fireplace, the walls and the carpet in a dusting of black. Next to the Dosetts, Harry gaped as from within the plume of darkness a man emerged, coughing and spluttering. He dusted himself off and spun on the spot, until his gaze landed on the other inhabitants.

“Ah,” the man started. “Yes. Blimey. Sorry.” He shook out his hair, a cloud of soot rising above his head, before sending a smile their way. His teeth sparkled white against soot stained skin.

“Christmas Eve on a rooftop. Saw a chimney, my whole brain just went, what the hell.” The man’s smile seemed to widen even further. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m the Doctor.”

**The Landport, 4,278 Metres Above Sea Level, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

“Would all passengers please return to their seats and fasten their safety belts? We are experiencing slight turbulence,” the Captain of the Landport announced into the ship’s tannoy system, her voice steady and somewhat chipper.

On the bridge chaos reigned. The crew were holding on to their seats for dear life and the ship swerved up and down. The guidance systems were quietly spewing sparks and smoke at those brave even to get close. The loud clanging of the stalling engines echoed throughout the bowels of the ship. The monitor, which a few moments ago had shown a lovely view of the Horsehead Nebula, was no obscured by a thick layer of dark grey mist.

“Both engines failed, and the storm-gate's critical. The ship is going down,” the Captain yelled to the crew, face set in panic.“Entering atmosphere now,” the Pilot warned, his knuckles white on the controls. “Level. Keep her level.”

“Entering atmosphere now,” the Pilot warned, his knuckles white on the controls. “Level. Keep her level.”

“Level with what?” his Co-pilot snapped back. “I can't see. What is that stuff?”

“Clouds?” the Captain returned, a question in her voice as the bridge lights began to flicker.

“Not like any clouds I’ve seen before,” the Pilot muttered, darkly.

At that moment, a small red light began to flash on the dashboard. All three crew frowned at it in confusion.

“Are you sending a distress signal?” the Captain asked?

The Pilot pulled a face, shaking his head. “It's not me.”

The bridge door slide open, spilling Liam and Zayn on to the floor as the ship around them continued to shake.

“I've sent for help,” Liam rushed out. He tried to bring himself back up to standing, a harder task than he’d first imagined when the ground beneath him kept moving.

“Who the hell are you?” the Captain demanded.

Liam brushed the question off, dragging Zayn with him to the control deck. He grasped firmly onto the railing and level the Captain with his most serious and responsible expression.

“Look, there's a friend of mine, okay? And he can help us. He'll come.”

In all the years that Liam had been travelling time and space with the Doctor, the timelord had never let him down. He wouldn’t abandon them now, not at Christmas.

A loud clanging sounded behind them and Liam turned to see a section of the bridge wall come away, revelling reams sparking wires.

Mind you, there was a first time for everything.

“Li, the light's stopped flashing,” Zayn pointed out, sounding tense. “Does that mean he's coming?” The other man groaned. “I told you it was a bad idea to go on a trip without the Doctor. We’ve jinxed it, is what we’ve done.”

“Well, you’re jinxing more now, then. Just, shush,” Liam waved his friend off, his faith in the Doctor resolute.

The Co-pilot slammed down what seemed like a random selection of buttons on the control panel in quick success as her expression grew paler and paler. “Sensor loss on eighty percent of the hull.”

“So, does this mean he's coming, or does it mean we need to change the bulb?” Zayn asked the room at large.

Liam stared ahead and the screen, a back of grey unrelenting grey. “He'll come,” he said. “He always comes.”

“Right,” Zayn scoffed. “Well, he’s cutting a bit fine for my liking, if I’m honest.”

“If we can't stabilise the orbit, we're finished,” the Captain shouted.

The Co-pilot shot back, “There's nothing to lock onto. I am flying blind.”

The ship plummeted, a horrid stooping sensation coursing through Liam’s stomach as they all held on a little tighter. “Come on, Niall,” he muttered, eyes locked on the screen. “ _Come on._ ”

“There's something coming alongside us,” the Co-pilot gasped, her tone disbelieving. “Something small, like a shuttle.”

“Incoming message,” the Pilot announced. “It's from the other ship.”

“Well, get it on screen,” the Captain instructed.

On the monitor, words filled the screen and flooded Liam with hope. ‘MESSAGE READS: GET A MOVE ON, PAYNE.’

The Captain frowned, nonplussed. “What does that mean?” she asked, turning to her crew.

Liam and Zayn shared a relieved grin. “That means it's Christmas.”

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Victoriana ~ 4383**

The man who had introduced himself as the Doctor stepped towards the Dosetts with open arms. Harry stared, agape. This man, _this Doctor_ , came breaking into his house, ruining his furniture, wasting his time and had the gall to smile about it.

“Don't worry,” the Doctor clapped his hands and before waving his fingers in the air as if trying to remember something. “Er, fat fellow will be doing the rounds later. I'm just scoping out the general chimney-ness.” He sniffed, patting the hearth with a grimace. “Yes. Nice size, good traction. Big tick.”

“Fat fellow?” the boy asked, eyes wide and entrance by the stranger.

The Doctor bent down in front of the child. He’d managed to dust a lot of the soot off himself and onto Harry’s antique floor, revealing muddy brown hair, lightening at the tips. He wore a shirt a waistcoat, like the poor families Harry spied on trudging along the streets below, though his seemed new and well maintained. “Father Christmas,Santa Claus or, as I've always known him, Jeff,” the Doctor said, his face stoic.

“There's no such person as Father Christmas,” the boy scoffed. At least the family weren’t filling him with false hope. A vivid imagination was a terrible distraction.

“Oh, yeah?” the Doctor challenged. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a photograph, folded and torn in places. Waving in the air for a moment in victory he smirked and shoved it in front of the boy’s face. “Me and Father Christmas, Frank Sinatra's hunting lodge, nineteen fifty two. See him at the back with the blonde? Albert Einstein. The three of us together.” The boy pulled a face, through the Doctor ignored him, tucking the photo away once more. “Keep the faith. Stay off the naughty list.”

Harry continued to glare as the Doctor rose to his feet, content to wait for this man to dig himself into even more trouble before he had him forcibly removed. He knew the second the Doctor saw it, his machine to control the clouds. The man’s eyes lit up and he raced over, pawing his hands all of Harry’s property.

It had been his father’s pride and joy, that machine, hidden away in the corner. To the untrained eye, it looked something like a musical instrument. A piano, or an organ, perhaps. Anybody with a jot of intelligence could tell it was something more than that. It was something far greater. Harry’s key to the skies.

“Oh. Now, what's this then? This is grand. It’s a beauty. A big flashy lighty thing. This is what brought me here. Isn’t it?” He turned his smiling face toward the room, eyes landing on Harry for the first time. He didn’t address Harry, however, but simply continued to ramble in a stream of self-centred nonsense. “Big flashy lighty things are right up my street. Now, this particular thing connected to the spire in your dome, yeah? And it controls the sky. Well, technically it controls the clouds, which technically aren't clouds at all. Well, they're clouds of tiny particles of ice. Ice clouds. That’s proper amazing, that. Who's he, by the way?”

The Doctor stopped in his soliloquy, it nod his head toward the Cryochamber, and the young man sleeping within.

“Nobody important,” Harry grunted, his eyes travelling over the Dosetts as he spoke.

“‘Nobody important’. Blimey, that's amazing. They’re rare, those ones.” The man didn’t seem too perturbed by the presence of the Cryochamber. Instead, he continued to examine the cloud machine. Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out a small metal device. Long and thin, it was covered in multiple plates, beeping and flashing in regular burst. He ran it along the surface of the machine as he spoke. “Now, this console is the key to saving that ship, or I'll - I’ll - I’ll do something. Not something too bad though. I’m not a masochist. Sorry, rambling, because, because this isn't working!” The Doctor finished with a shout, pushing away from the machine angrily.

Harry folded his arms, eyebrow raised. “The controls are isomorphic,” he drawled, bored. “One to one. They respond only to me.”

“Oh, give over,” the Doctor laughed, rolling his eyes. “Isomorphic. There's no such thing.”

Relishing the opportunity to prove his point, in light of how smart this Doctor person clearly thought they were, Harry headed toward the machine. He leaned around the Doctor and easily switch the machine off. The lights powered down, the faint background whirring that you never noticed until it was gone vanished, the cloud outside immediately began to creep closer. He took a second to take in the Doctor’s annoyed frown, before turning the machine back on again.

He watched as the Doctor tried to copy his movements, only to be greeted with nothing.

“These controls are isomorphic,” the Doctor said.  

Harry raised his chin. “The skies of this entire world are mine. My family tamed them, and now I own them.”

“Tamed the sky?” The Doctor scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I'm Harry Styles.” Harry sneered. “How can you possibly not know who I am?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, just easily bored, I suppose. So, I need your help, then.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Make an appointment,” he fired back.

That gave the Doctor pause and Harry felt a grim sense of satisfaction that he was going to deny this man what he wanted. What he could so easily give. Just because he coul.

“There are four thousand and three people in a spaceship trapped in your cloud belt,” the Doctor said in a hushed tone, waving towards the window. “Without your help, they're going to die.”

“Yes.”

The Doctor blinked. “You don't have to let that happen.”

“I know, but I'm going to,” Harry smirked, taken in the Doctor’s dumbfounded expression. “I’m bored now. Goodbye.”

He turned away, only for the Doctor to grab his arm. He raised an eyebrow in disdain. “Oh, are you trying to be all tough now?”

The Doctor’s face was sombre when he spoke. “There are four thousand and three people I won't allow to die tonight. Do you know where that puts you?”

“Where?” Harry dared.

“Four thousand and four.”

Harry smiled, showing his teeth. “Are you threatening me? I own you, you stupid man”

The Doctor was already back away. He had a look in his eyes, Harry thought it was almost sad. Who knew what went through the minds of these people. “Whatever happens tonight, remember you brought it on yourself,” the Doctor warned.

“Yeah, right.” Harry waved to his servant. “Get him out of here.”

As he watched the sad little family be escorted from the room the small boy broke free, launching a stray piece of coal towards Harry. It his arm, marking the deep grey of the dinner jacket black. Harry stepped to the boy, his arm raised to hit him as his father cried out, “Don’t you dare. You leave him!”

“No, don’t. Stop,” the Doctor yelled.

Harry glared, his arms still raised before shouting at his servant, “Get him out of here. Get that foul-smelling family out of here. Out!”

“We're going!” the boy shrieked, before scuttling away, out of Harry’s reach. His parents followed suit, and Harry took several deep breaths as he watched the forms vanish around the corner.

“What?” Harry shouted at the Doctor when the other man lingered. He could feel the heat in his face, anger coursing through him. “What do you want?”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, pulling at his lips as he shrugged. “A simple life. But you didn't hit the boy.”

“Well, I will next time.”

The Doctor squinted at him. “You see, you won't. Now why? What am I missing?”

“Get out,” Harry snarled. “Get out of this house.”

The Doctor didn’t move. Instead he stared Harry down, jaw locked and eyes focused. “There's a portrait on the wall behind me,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly. “Looks like you, but it's too old, so it's your father. All the chairs are angled away from it.” Harry glanced at the picture before steadfastly meeting the Doctor’s gaze. “Daddy's been dead for twenty years, but you still can't get comfortable where he can see you. There's a Christmas tree in the painting, but none in this house, on Christmas Eve. You're scared of him, and you're scared of being like him, and good for you, you're not like him, not really. Do you know why?”

The, “Why?” spilled from Harry’s lips before he could stop himself.

“Because you didn't hit the boy.” The Doctor nodded, his lips thin. “Merry Christmas, Mister Styles.”

“I despise Christmas,” Harry seethed.

The Doctor let out a humourless laugh. “You shouldn't. It's very you.”

“It's what?” Harry spat. “What do you mean?”

With a sad smile, the Doctor said, simply, “Halfway out of the dark.”

And with that the Doctor left, and Harry was alone once more. He turned back into the room, rage filling him all over again as his eyes fell on the face of the young man, still frozen in the Cryochamber. He was still and calm and serene, nothing like Harry felt just then. He grunted, heading towards the door. As he slammed the it shut on his way out, he shouted to the house at large, “Clean up that mess. And get him downstairs with the others.”

**The Landport, 3,988 Metres Above Sea Level, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

Back on the Landport, the crew continued to fight against the ship’s rapid descent towards Stylestown. “Everything's offline,” the Co-pilot confirmed, her face set. “Secondary furnace just vented.”

Liam bit his lip as he wedged himself between the control panel and the wall, his phone plastered to his ear. The longer it rang the more uneasy his breathing became. At last, the Doctor picked up. Without giving him a chance to catch his breath, Liam demanded, “Have you got a plan yet?"

The Doctor didn’t hesitate before saying, “ _Yes, I do._ ”

Letting out a heavy breath, Liam pinched his brows together. “Niall,” he sighed. “Are you lying?”

Straight away the Doctor answered, “ _Yes, I am,_ ” and Liam cursed the day the time traveller landed on his door.

“Don't treat me like an idiot,” he snapped.

From across the bridge, Zayn was eavesdropping. “Was he lying?” he asked, eyes wide.

Liam pulled a face. “No, no,” he lied, shifting a little so his back was to the bridge.

“ _Okay,_ ” the Doctor started, his voice crackling through the tenuous connecting. “ _The good news. I've tracked down the machine that unlocks the cloud belt. I could use it to clear you a flight corridor and you could land easily._ ”

“Oh, hey,” Liam said with a grin, voice loud. “Hey, that's great news.”

“ _But I can't control the machine._ ”

Liam’s smile wilted. “Less great,” he admitted.

“ _But I've met a man who can,_ ” the Doctor responded.  

“Ah, well. There you go!”

“ _And he hates me._ ”

“Were you being extra charming and clever?” Liam asked with a groan.

“ _Yeah!_ ” the Doctor exclaimed. “ _How did you know?_ ”

“Lucky guess.”

Through the phone Liam heard a quiet voice seeking the Doctor’s attention. “ _Sir? Sir._ ”

“ _Hang on_ ,” the Doctor muttered to him from the speaker. Before Liam could protest, the small voice spoke up once more

“ _I've never seen anybody stand up to Master Styles like that_ ,” it said. It sounded like a young boy, all astonishment and wonder. What the hell was the Doctor doing down there on that planet? “ _Bless you, Sir, and merry Christmas._ ”

“ _Merry Christmas,_ ” Liam heard the Doctor reply. _“Happy New Year and all of that. Sorry, buddy, I’m a caught up at the moment._ ”

“ _You'd better get inside, Sir,_ ” the boy advised. _“The fog's thick tonight, and there's a fish warning._ ”

“ _All right, yeah. Sorry, fish?_ ” the Doctor asked, sounding confused. What on earth was this kid talking about?

“ _Yeah. You know what they're like when they get a bit hungry._ ”

“ _Yeah, fish,_ ” the Doctor said, clearly still baffled. _“I know fish. Fish?_ ”

“ _It's all Master Styles’ fault, I reckon,”_ the boy continued, with a happy sort of acceptance. _“He always lets a few fish through the cloud layer when he's in a bad mood._ ” There was a brief pause before the boy said, _“Thank you. Bless you once again, Sir._ ”

“ _Fish?_ ” Liam heard the Doctor whisper to himself.

Liam snapped, loudly, attempting to break the Doctor from his aquatic reverie. “Niall, the Captain says we've got less than an hour. What should we be doing?”

“ _Fish._ ”

Liam almost growled. “Sorry, what?” He was getting a headache.

“ _Liam,_ ” the Doctor gasped, sounding awed. “ _There’s fish that can swim in fog. I love new planets._ ”

Shutting his eyes, Liam resting his head against the wall. “Niall,” he groaned. “Niall, please don't get distracted.” He could just imagine it, the Doctor flouncing off to follow floating fish across the galaxy, while he and Zayn and thousands of others were engulfed in a crashing ball of flames.

The bridge was plunged into darkness in that moment. Liam’s heart rate spiked as he jumped to his feet, following the distinctly shark-shape shadow that glided across the monitor. Next to him, Zayn gulped audibly.

On the other end of the phone, the Doctor was still jabbering away, apparently happy as larry talking to the fish. “ _Now, why would people be frightened of you tiny little fellows? Look at you, sweet little fishy-wishies. Though I ‘spose, fish in the fog, reckon they’ll be in the clouds too. Best be careful up there_.”

“Oh gee, Niall, thanks so much,” Liam drawled, drawing ever closer to hysteria. “Because there was a real danger we were all going to nod off. We've got less than an hour!”

“ _I know. Eleven o’clock._ ”

As the Doctor spoke, the sound of singing followed his voice through the phone, “ _Ding dong merrily on high._ ”

“Niall?” Liam asked softly, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. “How are you getting us out of here?”

The Doctor let out a strangled groan. “ _Oh, just give me a minute_ ,” he crowed before he began babbling to himself. _“Can't use the Tardis, because it can't lock on. So, the ship needs to land. But it can't land unless a very bad man suddenly decides to turn nice just in time for Christmas Day._ ”

“Niall,” Liam called, frowning against the noise battling with the Doctor over the speaker. “I can't hear you. What is that? Is that singing?”

“ _Yeah, it’s through the tannoy system. A Christmas carol._ ”

“A what?” Liam replied.

“ _Oh!_ ” the Doctor whooped, the sound ringing in Liam’s ear. He pulled the phone away from his face to frown down at it for a moment. “ _That’s it. Oh, I’m brilliant. A Christmas Carol!_ ” the Doctor half shouted.

The choral voices sang in the background, “ _Hosanna in excelsis._ ”

“Niall?” Liam called.

“ _Gloria._ ”

“ _Harry Styles,_ ” the Doctor whispered.

“Niall!”

The Doctor beamed. “ _Merry Christmas, Harry Styles!_ ”

“ _Hosanna in excelsis._ ”

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4355**

Harry leant against his desk, tongue stuck out as he concentrated on balancing the tiny clockwork camera on top of a pile of his school books. He was in his room, already in his pyjamas, the striped flannel trousers and shirt sleeves barely grazing his ankles and wrists.

Outside the fog was already engulfing the town. His circular window let in the flickering light from the street lamps beyond.

At last the camera took hold and came to life, clogs whirring away.

Harry grinned, sitting back in his chair. “Hello,” he said to the camera, his words soft. “My name is Harry Styles. I'm twelve and a half, and this is my bedroom. This is my top secret special project.” He leant closer. “For my eyes only. Merry Christmas!”

The slamming of the door sent shocks up Harry’s spine and he jumped back against his chair. “Harry!” his father’s presence filled the room. He stood tall and wide, fierce glare focus on Harry in an instant. “What are you doing?” he roared. Harry’s shoulders curled up to his ears as he flinched away from the voice. “I've warned you before about this, you stupid, ignorant, ridiculous child.

“I was just going to make a film of the fish,” Harry tried desperately to explain as he father stalked closer.  

Fog pressed against the glass, obscuring the world beyond.

“The fish are dangerous,” his father snapped. A man who seemed crippled with age for as long as Harry could remember, Bedford Styles was a harsh patriarch. Harry had learned long ago that that his father best avoided if at all possible. It was an arrangement that suited the both of them, except in the moments where the great businessman wished to shape Harry as his next in line. His determination to bend Harry to his will was difficult to fight, no matter how hard Harry tried.

“I just want to see them,” Harry countered.

“Don't be stupid. You're far too young.” If felt like the answer to every question Harry ever asked.

“Everyone at school's seen the fish.”

“That's enough,” his father sneered. “You'll be singing to them next, like paupers.”

It had long been said that singing was the key to the fish. That if you sang to them, you could get close to them, befriend them, even. It was Harry’s secret dream, to find a fish and prove they weren’t the monsters his father believed.

That there was gentleness under their fierce exterior.

He gnawed on his lip for a second before venturing, “The singing works. I've seen it. The fish like the singing.”

“What does it matter what fish like?” his father spat.

“People say we don't have to be afraid of the fish. They're not really interested in us.”

The gleam in his father’s eye told Harry he’d gone too far.

His father erupted, eyes bulging, spittle flying from his lips. “You don't listen to people,” he roared. “You listen to me.” His hand came flying down to strike Harry’s cheek, the loud crack like a shotgun in the quiet room.

Harry jerked back, palm cradling his face, skin hot to the touch. He cowered. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“This is my house,” his father continued, undeterred by Harry’s submission. “While you're under my roof, you'll obey my instructions. There's a fog warning tonight. You keep these windows closed, understand?” He jabbed his finger towards the window. “Closed. Mrs Nickleby will be looking after you tonight. You stay here ‘till she comes. Do you understand? Do you understand?”

He gave a jerky nod before the miserable old man turned on his heel, leaving Harry on his own, breath hitching in his attempts not to cry.

It him a few moments, then, to notice the unfamiliar whooshing sound. It was coming from outside his window.

A man, dressed only in a waistcoat and shirt sleeves, his trousers fluttered in the wind, was clambering into his room. Harry was so bemused, he let his hand fall from his face to frown at the intruder. Something told him that he should be more concern in the face a stranger climbing through his window. He felt nothing of the sort. He was intrigued.

“Well, hello again,” the man said, jumping to the floor and hold out his arms as if performing the finale of a magic trick. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, lips thinned in an unsure smile. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Tonight, I'm a Ghost Of Christmas Past,” the man wiggled his eyebrows, sharing a joke.  

“What?” Harry asked, completely lost.

The man wrinkled his nose, coming up to rub at his jaw. “By that, I mean, that I’m the Doctor. I'm, er, your new babysitter.”

“Where's Mrs Nickleby?” he asked, thinking back on his father’s words.

“Oh, you'll never guess,” the Doctor chuckled. “Clever old Mrs Nickleby, she only went and won the lottery.”

Harry paused. “There isn't any lottery.”

“I know. What a woman.” The Doctor smiled, sending him a wink. Harry felt himself grin.

“If you're my babysitter,” he asked. “Why are you climbing in the window?

“Because,” the Doctor said, dragging out the word as he cross the bedroom floor towards Harry. “If I was climbing out of the window, I'd be going in the wrong direction.” He tapped Harry on the forehead. “Pay attention.”

“But Mrs Nickleby's always my babysitter.”

“Times change. Wouldn't you say? You see? Christmas Past.” He wiggled his fingers in Harry’s face.  

“Who are you talking to?” he asked. His eyes flicked towards the door, cautious of the noise they were no making. His father was going out for the evening, though that wasn’t to say he wouldn’t pay Harry a visit before he left if he heard something suspicious.

“You,” the Doctor replied, simply. “Now, concept. Imagine this, your past is going to change. That means your memories will too. The memories you have in the future. Bit scary,” he clicked his tongue. “But you'll get the hang of it.”

A bubble of laughter peeled from Harry’s throat at this strange man who’d turned up saying strange things. “What are you talking about? I don't understand.”

“You will do. Give or take thirty or so years.” He clapped his hands. “Right then, your bedroom. Great. Let's see. You're twelve years old, so we'll stay away from under the bed. Cupboard! Big cupboard. I love a cupboard. Do you know, there's a thing called a face spider. It's just like a tiny baby's head with spider legs, and it's specifically evolved to scuttle up the backs of bedroom cupboards which, yeah, I probably shouldn't have mentioned. Right. So. What are we going to do? Eat crisps and talk about girls? I've never actually done that, but I bet it's easy. Girls? Yeah?”

Harry shifted on his chair. “Are you really a babysitter?” He eyed the Doctor dubiously as he paced the room, his expression a little daunted.  

The Doctor looked almost offended. “I think you'll find I'm universally recognised as a mature and responsible adult.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before the Doctor visibly seemed to deflate. “No, I know. Too big a lie, even for me. Okay, no, not really a babysitter, but it's Christmas Eve,” he crowed. “You don't want a real one.” He sat down on the corner of Harry’s bed, near where Harry was perched on the edge of his wooden chair. The Doctor clapped his shoulder and said, “You want me.”

“Why?” Harry breathed, sure something adventurous was going to happen. He could feel it in his toes. “What's so special about you?”

The Doctor leant closer, eyes thin. “Have you ever seen Mary Poppins?” he muttered.

“No,” Harry whispered back to him.

“Good!” the Doctor said, loudly. “Because that comparison would've been rubbish.” He grinned, all his teeth on show. “Fish in the fog. Fish in the clouds. How do people ever get bored? How did boredom even get invented?”

Harry licked his lips, wondering if the Doctor would be impressed or not. “My father's invented a machine to control the cloud belt,” he said, eventually. “Tame the sky, he says. The fish'll be able to come down, but only when we let them. We can charge whatever we like.”

“Yeah. I've seen your dad's machine.” The Doctor didn’t look so happy anymore. Behind him, the dark outline of a shark swam by the window. The Doctor had left it open from when he’d climbed through, thin tendrils of fog were drifting into Harry’s bedroom as they spoke.

That didn’t make sense. He father hadn’t completed the machine yet. He still had all the designed on the desk in his study. Harry wasn’t allowed in there, but he’d snuck a look last time Mrs Nickleby went to answer the door on her watch. “What? You can't have.”

“Tame the sky,” the Doctor repeated with a huff. “Human beings. You always manage to find the boring alternative, don't you? You want to see one?” he asked, eyes shining. “A fish. We can do that.” His voice dropped lower. “We can see a fish.”

Harry hesitated. “Aren't you going to tell me it's dangerous?

“Dangerous?” The Doctor pulled a face as if to show exactly how little he thought of ‘dangerous’. “Come on, we're adventurers. And you know what adventurers say in the face of danger?”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” The Doctor shrugged, holding out his hand for Harry to take. “Let’s find out.”

It was fun, playing with the Doctor. Harry soon decided that he wanted the Doctor to become his regular babysitter, even if he wasn’t one really. He and Mrs Nickleby could work together maybe. He began to plan out the arrangements in his head as the two of them waited, their knees shoved against their chests as they hide in the cupboard.

Outside the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver - that’s what he’d called it, a strange device, all flashing lights and beeping noises - was dangling from a piece of string. The Doctor held tight to the other end, eyes focused on the blinking light in the fog.

“Are there any face spiders in here?” Harry whispered in the dark,

“Nah, not at this time of night. They'll all be sleeping in your mattress. So, why are you so interested in fish?”

Harry shrugged, pulling at a stray thread by his knee. “Because they're scary.”

“Good answer. Need to work harder on your delivery.” The Doctor smiled at him as Harry pouted. Shoving at his side, he asked. “Why are you _really_ interested in the fish?.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment. He’d never told anyone before. What if the Doctor laughed at him? Thought he was being stupid? Even as he thought it, he knew the Doctor never would. “My school,” he said. “During the last fog belt, the nets broke and there was an attack. Loads of them. A whole shoal. No one was hurt, but it was the most fish ever seen below the mountain.”

“Were you scared?”

He shook his head. “I wasn't there. I was off sick.”

“Oh, lucky you,” the Doctor whistled. He stopped, cocking his head. Eyebrows furrowed. “No. Not lucky?”

“It's all anyone ever talks about now,” Harry pouted, trying not to sound too childish. “The day the fish came. Everyone's got a story.

“But you don't,” the Doctor finished.

“No. I don’t.”

The pair stayed quiet for a while and Harry stared down at his slippered feet, listening to the soft breathing of the Doctor next to him.

“Do you pay attention at school, Harry?” the Doctor asked, casually, a while later.

Harry frowned up at him. A sliver of light crept through the gap in the cupboard doors, falling across the Doctor’s face in a line against his cheek.

“Sorry, what?” Harry asked.

The Doctor turned to look at him with a smile. “Because you're not paying attention now.”

His eyes feel to the string he was holding in his hand. With a startled gasp, Harry saw that it was moving. Something was tugging it.

A fish. At last.

The Doctor held his forefinger to his lips in a shushing gesture before he leant forwards, pressing gentle on the cupboard doors.

Harry reached out, fingers clasping his shirt. “Doctor, are you sure?” he whispered, eyeing the string fearfully. Stories flashed through his mind. Things that the boys at school said. Fish eating your flesh. They were made up stories. But what if they weren’t?

Ignoring him, as Harry knew he would, the Doctor laid his hand flat against the cupboard door, pushing it open and stepping out into the room beyond. The door swung back, plunging Harry into darkness once more. He pressed his eye to the keyhole, desperate to see what the Doctor was doing.

“Hello, fishy,” he heard the Doctor coo, his voice a gentle whisper. “Let's see. Interesting. Crystalline fog, eh? Maybe carrying a tiny electrical charge. Is that how you fly, little fishy?”

“What kind is it?” Harry asked from his hiding place, impatiently. “Can I see?”

“Just stay there a moment,” the Doctor dismissed.

“Is it big?”

“Nah,” the Doctor called. “Just a little one.” His words became muffled, as if he’d turned away. “So, little fellow, what do you eat?”

A strange whooshing sound came from the room and he heard the Doctor gasp. Harry tried to angle himself to see more through the tiny keyhole, but all he could get his eyes on were the other man’s legs.

He grunted in frustration. “How little?”

“Er,” the Doctor stalled, voice wavering a little

Harry frowned. “Can I come out?” he asked.

“No!” The Doctor’s reply was immediate. His legs were carrying him backwards a few steps. “No. Maybe just wait there for a moment.”

Sure the Doctor was deliberately stalling, Harry bashed his forehead against the door. “Well, what colour is it? At least describe it to me.”

“Big. Big colour.”

“What?” Harry wrinkled his nose. “What's happening?”

He launched himself to the back of the cupboard once more with a yell when the Doctor dove into the small space, slamming the doors shut behind him. Harry sent him an alarmed look, which he acknowledged with a grimace and a slight nod of the head.

“Well,” he said, breaths coming in short pants. “Concentrating on the plusses, you've definitely got a story of your own now.” He flashed Harry a grin. “Also, I got a good look at the fish, and I think I understand how the fog works, which is going to help me land a spaceship in the future and save a lot of lives.”

“What?” Harry asked. Did he say the future?

“Don’t worry about it. I bet I get some very interesting readings off my sonic screwdriver when I get it back from the shark in your bedroom.”

“No, what, hang on, ‘shark’?” Harry’s eyes widened. “There's a shark in my bedroom?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Focus on that part, why don’t you.”

Before he could reply the two of them jumped back, startled by the loud crashing of something heavy colliding into the door. Harry eyed the flimsy looking lock with apprehension. It was no good getting eaten by a shark if he couldn’t tell his friends about it afterwards.

He reached out and grabbed the Doctor’s hand in his own.

“Has it gone?” he whispered after a few moments. “What's it doing?”

The Doctor grimaced. “What do you call it if you don't have any feet, and you're taking a run-up?”

Harry groaned. “It's going to eat us. It's going to eat us.” He began to panic and tucked himself into the Doctor’s side. He clenched his eyes shut at the deafening sound of the shark crashing back into the cupboard. Next to him the Doctor tensed. “It's going to eat us,” Harry whimpered again. Upon realising he was still alive, however, he tentatively opened one eye. “Is it going to eat us?”

Before him the terrifying sight of the shark's many sharp teeth greeted them. The animal was fighting fiercely to break free from where it was stuck against the cupboard door.

Harry let out a shaky breath. He could see him and the Doctor reflected in the shark's beady eyes.

“Well,” the Doctor gulped. “Maybe we're going to eat it, though I admit that’s not likely.” He shifted a little closer and Harry bit his lip. “It's stuck, though. Let's see. Tiny shark brain. If I had my screwdriver, I could probably send a pulse and stun it.”

“All right, where's your screwdriver, then?”

The Doctor turned to face him and Harry thought he was either very brave or very stupid to turn his back to the fighting creature. “Concentrating on the plusses, which is what I like to do, within reach.” He smiled a crooked smile, his blue eyes twinkling. “You know, there's a real chance the way it's wedged in the doorway is keeping its mouth open.”

“There is?” Harry squeaked.

The Doctor made an unsure sound, cocking his head to one side. “Just agree with me, because I've only got two goes, and then it's your turn.”

“Two goes?”

“Two arms.” He waved two hands in front of Harry’s face, and Harry gulped. “Right, then. Okay.” The Doctor braced himself, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm. “Open wide.”

In later years, Harry would often wonder how the Doctor managed it. At the time, however, it passed in a heroic blur. The Doctor lunged forward, grunting and shouting, the shark thrashed about, its razor teeth brushing the Doctor’s hair.

Seconds later the Doctor righted himself, half his screwdriver raised triumphantly above his head. With a series of beeps and flashes from the small device, the shark jerk suddenly, its movements becoming slow and sluggish.

Harry’s heart rate began to return to normal as the Doctor wiggled his eyebrows at him.

The two of them followed the sluggish shark out into the corridor and towards the grand balcony. It was there, on the balcony, overlooking the town on Christmas Eve, that the shark final gave in and dropped to the ground.

It lay at the Doctor’s feet, silhouetted against the new dome his father had under construction. His machine to tame the skies. To control to fish once and for all.

“What's the big fishy done to you?” the Doctor whined as he ducked his head over his half ruined screwdriver. “Swallowed half of you, that's what. Half a screwdriver, what use is that? Bad, big fishy.”

Harry crouched down next to the creature, its tail waving impotently along the dirty ground. Daring to run his hand down her side, the shark’s skin felt dry under his fingers. Her breathing seemed slow and strained.

“Doctor?” He squinted up to the strange man and said, plaintively, “I think she's dying.”

“Half my screwdriver's still inside,” he grumbled. “But yeah, I think so. I doubt they can survive long outside the cloud belt.” He scrunched up his face, eyes lifted to the clouds far above their heads. “Just quick raiding trips on a foggy night.”

“Can't we get it back up there? We were just going to stun it. I didn't want to kill it.”

“She was trying to eat you,” the Doctor pointed out.

Harry stared back down at the shark. “She was hungry,” he said.

The Doctor knelt down next to him, his large hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. “I'm sorry, Harry. I can't save her.” He looked sorry, too. Harry ducked his head, hoping to hide his disappointment. “I could take her back up there,” the Doctor continued. “But she'd never survive the trip. We need a fully functioning life-support.”

Harry lifted his head, eyes bright. “You mean like an icebox?” he asked.

At the sudden enthusiasm in his voice, the Doctor nodded, looking a little bewildered.

“We can do it!” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. “We can save her!”

He ran back into the house, sparing only a short glance over his shoulder to make sure the Doctor was following him. He led them down the grand staircase, lush red carpet underfoot. When they passed the tree in the entrance hall, the Doctor slowed to a stop.

“Oh, a tree.”

Harry sent him a strange look as he stopped as well. “Obviously,” he said. “It’s Christmas.”

“You say that now.”

The tree itself was tall, towering over Harry where he stood in his slippers. It was covered in shiny baubles and glittering beads, the golden star at the top shimmering in the moonlight. Harry had always loved decorating it growing up. This past year, though, the fun had begun to fade. His father wouldn’t help him anymore, saying Harry was getting too old for Christmas stories. That it was their duty as the town’s first family to decorate in a manner befitting their status and that was all. To assure the townsfolk of their worth.

“Don’t you have a tree at Christmas?” Harry asked, a little bemused by the Doctor’s interest.

“Well,” the Doctor drawled. “I’ve had a chequered history with them, you see.”

When he didn’t elaborate any further, Harry scoffed. “Okay.” What a strange man. Not for the first time, he wondered whether he’d eaten too many mince pies at dinner, that this was all a fantastical dream. “It’s this way,” he called, grabbing a lamp from the hall and holding it high above his head.

After several more long minutes running down corridor after corridor, each increasingly more dark and cold than the last, they reached the door to his father’s Cryovault.

Harry huffed out a few heavy breaths, rising in swirls in front of his face. His toes stung with cold and he settled excited eyes on the Doctor next to him.

“What is this?” the Doctor asked, eyeing the heavy steel door in trepidation.

“The surplus population. That's what my father calls it.”

The Doctor hummed lightly before attempting to turn the large wheel in the middle of the door to unlock it. “It's not budging,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why won't it turn?” Harry watched as he spotted the keypad next to the door a let out a pleased, “Aha!”

“You need the number,” he interrupted, as the Doctor began to randomly press buttons on the pad.

“All right,” he said. “What is it?”

Harry gnawed on his cheek. “I'm not allowed to know until I'm older,” he said, mildly.

The Doctor grinned, bending down a little to look Harry in the eye. “But I bet you haven’t let that stop you.”

After a second Harry smiled as well and the Doctor let out a gleeful laugh. “Seven two five eight,” he said.

“Good boy,” the Doctor cheered as he punched in the code. “Ah, there's fish down here, too.”

As the heavy door swung open a vast room beyond was revealed. Light fog filled the chamber to waist height, causing a chill to creep up Harry’s skin as soon as he stepped forward. Before them, steel chambers ran in rows all the way to the back of the room. Large enough to for a human to stand in comfortably, they were covered in a layer of frost, the industrial sized handles glistening in the lamplight.

“Yeah, but only tiny ones. The house is built on a fog lake, that's how Father freezes the people,” Harry explained as they walked along the rows. “They're all full, but we could borrow one. Yeah, this one.” He stopped in front of a chamber, second to last in the row.  

“Hello again,” the Doctor said, as he took a look through the small window in the Cryochamber to the person inside.

“You know him?” Harry asked.

The Doctor ignored the question, but smirked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why him? Important, is he?”

Harry blushed. How had the Doctor known? He flickered his eyes up to where the young man’s face was visible through the circular window. Louis Tomlinson. The one who thought the fish were magical.

His skin was as pale as it always was when Harry snuck down here, just like the hundreds of other people his father kept frozen.

The man was beautiful, Harry had always thought so, from the moment he’d snuck in and noticed the new chamber placed gently in the fog. His hair was frozen in a delicate arch over his face. The corners of his lips were pulled tight. Like he was trying to smile, even in the cold.

“He won't mind,” Harry croaked. “He loves the fish.”

At the Doctor’s questioning frown, Harry pressed his hand against the small screen underneath the window. The panel burst to life, an image of the young man before he was frozen filled the screen.

Harry loved to watch this video. He liked watching all of the videos. But this one was special. It was the way Louis smiled when he spoke, the melodic softness in his voice.

“ _My name is Louis Tomlinson, and I'm very grateful for Mister Styles’ kindness. My father …_ ”

Harry bit his lip, gaze falling on the Doctor out of the corner of his eye. “He starts to talk about the fish in a minute,” he rushed. It was important that the Doctor knew.

“ _... but I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t have been able to help my family like this, if it wasn’t for Mister Styles. His compassion and generosity is truly inspiring; he’s such a great philanthropist and patron of the poor. And it won’t be so bad. I’ll be surrounded by the fish. They’re beautiful, the fish. Iridescent and magical._ ”

Next to him the Doctor stood to his full height. His eyes were travelling around the room, washing over the hundreds of Cryochambers, all immersed in the fog. “Why are these people here?”

“ _... they swim beneath the light and rush through the fog ..._ ”

“What's all this for?”

It took Harry a few moments to pull his gaze away from the screen. He shrugged. “My father lends money. He always takes a family member as, he calls it security.”

He turned to look down the row of Cryochambers they were currently standing in. Behind each window, the frozen faces of people, young and old, were sleeping, unaware of the years as they passed.

“Hard man to love, your dad,” the Doctor muttered darkly. He dropped his eyes to Harry, a strange expression coming over his face. Harry felt a tug in his stomach. Shame, for his father, who the Doctor clearly despised. The Doctor, who had shown him nothing but kindness. What did that make his father? If a man like the Doctor thought so little of him? “But I suppose you know that,” the Doctor finished, so quiet Harry almost didn’t hear him.  

“ _... nature. I am not alone, and I am at peace._ ”

The recording stopped, the screen returning to black. A thrum of excitement raced through Harry’s. He pushed aside thoughts of his father, instead focusing on the man in the chamber. He was going to speak to him. The man who liked the fish. He had to. To save the shark. They didn’t have a choice. Harry was going to actually meet him.  

“What's wrong?” he asked, realising the Doctor had been quiet for a long time. The other man was staring down at his screwdriver once more.

“Just my half a screwdriver trying to repair itself. It's signalling the other half.”

Harry frowned, turning to face the Doctor fully. “The other half's inside the shark,” he questioned.

“Yeah?” the Doctor said, sounding a little doubtful. “Sounds like she's woken up. Okay, so it's homing on the screwdriver.”

The pair turned around at the same time to see the shark, revived in the fog, its many teeth revealed in the parody of a wicked grin.

“Run!” the Doctor yelled and Harry ducked behind the Cryochamber as the shark darted forward.

He braced himself, ready to hear the cries of the Doctor getting eaten. What he hadn’t expected, was a gentle voice, singing lightly in the fog. It echoed around the chamber, dancing in the air.

“In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan. Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow. In the bleak midwinter long ago.”

Stepping back out from his hiding place, Harry stared, at a loss for words.

Louis was out of his Cyrochamber. The Doctor must’ve been planning to trap the shark inside. Instead, the now free young man was knelt down in the fog, tendrils of white curling around his shoulders, as he sang softly to the shark. The powerful creature was calm under his hands.

“It's not really the singing, of course,” the Doctor said, as he came up beside Harry.

The sweet, light voice continued to fill the room.

“Yes, it is,” Harry breathed.

“Nah.”

Harry ignored him, smiling as Louis looked over to them, singing still. “The fish love the singing. It's true.”

“Nah. The notes resonate in the ice crystals, causing a delta wave pattern in the fog. Ow.” The Doctor raised his hand to his lip, sucking on his finger. “A fish bit me,” he grumbled.

“Shut up, then.”

“Whom angels fall before,” Louis sang on. He was surrounded by fish now, small schools lulled into a trance by his voice.

“Of course,” the Doctor continued for a moment, because it seemed he couldn’t resist. “That's how the machine controls the cloud belt. The clouds are ice crystals. If you vibrate the crystals at exactly the right frequency, you could align them into - Ow!” he hissed. “Why do they keep biting me?

“Look, the fish like the singing, okay?” Harry shoved him, laughing. “Now shut up.”

“Okay, fine.”

They were both silent, letting the delicate voice wash over them.

“But his mother only, in her maiden bliss, worshipped the beloved with a kiss.”

Harry felt himself be transported to a calmer place. Somewhere beautiful, where the fog danced around them, not to be feared, and the cold encased him, still and secure.

Eventually, the Doctor managed to communicate his plan to Louis, all the while the other man continued to sing, keeping the fish timid. They managed to get the Cryochamber lowered to the floor, gently placing the shark inside. Harry kept his eyes lowered, unable to summon the courage to meet Louis’ gaze.

When the door was closed and Louis stopped singing, it seemed unnaturally quiet. Harry didn’t want to break the silence.

The Doctor had no such qualms.

“Come on, gents! We’ve got a shark to save!” He grinned. “You two wait here, okay? I’ll be no time at all, literally.”

The Doctor ran back into the corridor and out of view.

Harry willed himself not to blush as he crouched down next to Louis by the Cyrochamber.

“Hello,” Louis said with a smile. His skin was still pale in the cold, but his eyes twinkled, hair falling into his face. “I’m Louis.”

“Harry,” Harry replied, voice raspy. He coughed. “Harry Styles.”

“Styles?” he asked, surprise written across his features. In a second it dawned on Harry that his father was the one to lock Louis up here. Of course Louis would want nothing to do with him. His panic must’ve shown on his face, however, as Louis ducked his head a little and whispered, gently, “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

As he wracked his brain for a reply, desperately wanting not to make a fool of himself, a strangely familiar whirring began to echo around them. The fog swirled madly, as, on all sides of them, a new room seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Harry jumped to his feet when the new room became solid. It was just as if they’d been transported. No, that wasn’t right, it was as if something had materialised around them.

The Doctor was in the new room, beaming at the pair of them.

“The Tardis. My ship,” he announced, like a proud parent, his arms raised at his sides. “I’m the Doctor, by the way, for those who are catching up still.”

Louis ran to the door, reaching his head outside. Harry could see the Cryovault beyond, fog wafting into the ship from the open door.

“It's bigger on the inside,” Louis gasped, eyes wide, as he shut the door once more.

Harry could hardly contain himself. This place was amazing, it was magical, it was unbelievable. He and the Doctor and Louis; they were going to have such amazing adventures, he just knew it.

The large room was lit with an orange glow, shiny glass floor reflecting the twinkling lights of the side. In the middle, a large pillar housed a pulsating ball of light, surrounded by a control panel. It looked more complex than anything Harry has seen in his father’s designs.

“Yeah, it's the colour,” the Doctor agreed. “Really knocks the walls back.” He patted the Cryochamber, which had materialised with them, near the door. “Shark in a box, to go, anyone?”

At their answering grins the Doctor ran to the control panel and pulled at a dozen or so multicoloured levers. The room began to shake and Harry gripped onto a nearby railing to keep from falling.

“This is amazing,” Louis laughed, once the room was still again.

The Doctor nudged Harry’s side with a grin as he passed. “Nah,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “This is transport. I keep amazing out here.”

Opening the door to the Tardis, they were no longer in the Cyrovault, but flying high in the sky, the clouds swirling around them, fish swimming before their very eyes.

“Come on, then. Let's get this shark out.”

Releasing the shark was easier than Harry had suspected. He and Louis stood well back as the Doctor opened the Cryochamber door, directly facing the Tardis exit, cloud belt outside thick and tempting.

As the Doctor ran towards them Harry giggled. “Hey,” he pointed to the doors where the shark had swum up out of the chamber and away into the sky beyond. “Look at her go!”

When the Doctor shut the Cryochamber doors once more, his eyes lingered on a set of dials on the front.

000008.

“Louis?” he asked. “This number.” He nodded to the dials. “What does it mean?”

Harry followed his gaze. He’d seen the numbers before, of course. All the Cryochambers had them. They were usually higher than that, but Harry had never taken any notice before. They were just numbers.

“It’s about me, Doctor, not the fish.” Louis had a strange expression on his face while he answered; soft yet unyielding.

“Yeah, but how?”

“You’re a doctor, is that right?” Louis asked. “Are you one of mine?

The Doctor frowned and Harry fiddled with the hem of his pyjamas, eyes flicking between the two older men. “Do you need a doctor?

From somewhere further into the Tardis a loud pinging noise sounded. The Doctor pulled a regretful face.

“Ah. Sorry. Time's up, lads.” He clapped his hands, rising to his feet.

“Why?” Harry whined, not wanting the adventure to be over. He didn’t want to go back home. He didn’t want to wake up to find this was all a dream.

“It's nearly Christmas Day,” the Doctor replied, simply, his voice full of wonder.

Louis lingered by the door of his Cryochamber, once they’d returned it to its correct place in the vault. He leant his head back against the soft padding inside, his expression that of someone waging a silent battle with himself.

"If you want to visit again you, er, know where I am,” he said, finally, with a small laugh. He was tugging at the sleeves of his suit jacket, his breath forming in clouds against his lips.

“Sure,” the Doctor answered lightly. “‘Course, if I'm ever in the neighbourhood.”

Harry hesitated for a second, looking from Louis to the Doctor, to the Tardis. “He comes every Christmas Eve,” he blurted out.

“What?” the Doctor said, turning to him in surprise.

“Yeah, he does,” Harry said, ignoring him. “Every time. He promises,” he assured.

Louis smiled at him and Harry knew it was worth it, even as the Doctor grumbled next to him, “No, I don't.”

He closed the door to the Cryochamber with a smile on his face.

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4356**

“Merry Christmas!” Harry and the Doctor sang as they opened the Cryochamber door.

A year later and Harry had begun to believe that he’d imagined it all. He hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. When the Doctor had turned up at his window, Tardis parked safely on the balcony, he cursed himself for ever doubting it.

“Doctor!” Louis beamed, blinking himself awake, a dusting of frost still lingering on his cheeks. “What are we going to do?”

“The Doctor's got a great plan,” Harry rushed out in delight. “Wait 'till you hear.”

As they ran from the vault, none of them saw to question the clacking of the dial, as the number on Louis’ vault door dropped to 000007.

“You are out of your mind,” Louis laughed, staring up to the sky as they waited. He wrapped his arms around himself, staving off the worst of the night’s chill. “This will never work.”

Next to him Harry rose up and down on the balls of his feet, excitement mounting. They waited on the rooftop next to the carriage. There was nothing to pull it. Not yet, anyway.

The pair watched as the Doctor pointed his still battered sonic screwdriver towards the sky.

“Don't think shark, think dolphin,” he yelled at them, face scrunched up as he reached up high.

Louis laughed in response. “A shark isn't a dolphin,” he shouted.

“It's nearly a dolphin.”

“No, it isn't.”

The Doctor scowled. “Well, not with that attitude it isn’t.”

“It could be anywhere,” Harry groaned, becoming impatient. “Will it really come?”

“No chance. Completely impossible.” The Doctor let out a whooping laugh. “Except at Christmas!”

As they cut through the clouds on their shark pulled sleigh, Harry knew he’d remember that Christmas until he was an old man.

“Best Christmas Eve ever,” Louis rushed, breathlessly, as they walked him back to his Cryochamber.

“‘Till the next one,” Harry replied, a promise to Louis and to himself.

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4357**

“Merry Christmas!”

“Doctor. Where to this time?”

“Did I mention, at any point, all of time and space?”

000006

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4358**

“Merry Christmas!”

“Doctor.”

“How does Egypt sound? A bit of Christmas sun?”

000005

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4359**

“Merry Christmas!”

“Doctor.”

“How do you like our scarves? I made Harry wear his. He hates it. Come on Harry, don’t be shy!”

000004

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4360**

“Merry Christmas!”

“Harry.”

000003

Harry leant against the rail of the Tardis, trying his hardest to look at home in his new found height. He looked over as Louis settled next to him. “You've grown,” Louis said, a slight twinkle in his eye.

“Yes,” Harry said, stiffly. He blinked, trying not to think of the delicate arch of Louis’ eyebrow, or the sharp cut of his cheekbone.

“And now you're blushing,” Louis replied, with a teasing laugh.

Harry felt the heat in his cheeks intensify. How mortifying. “I'm sorry,” he said, wincing.

Louis’ voice was soft when he next spoke. “That's okay,” he said, eyes travelling across Harry’s face.

Ignoring the twisting of his insides, Harry cleared his throat, calling over to the Doctor, “So, Doctor, where this time?” minutely aware of Louis’ gaze still on him.

At the control panel the Doctor exclaimed, “Pick a Christmas Eve!” He beamed. “Any Christmas Eve. I've got ‘em all.”

“Can I make a request?” Louis asked, sounding a little shy.

“But, of course,” the Doctor answered grandly.

Louis smiled at the two of them with a small shrug. “This one.”

It hadn’t been clear to Harry exactly what Louis meant until they stood outside the front door of the small house. They looked through the tiny window, steamed up with the heat of the chicken cooking inside.

As Louis pressed his face close to the window pane, Harry stayed back with the Doctor.

“Who are they?” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the scene before him.

The Doctor sent him a sad smile. “His family. The lady's his sister. I met her once, when she was older.”

Choosing to ignore the bypass in logic made by the Doctor, as he so often did, Harry said, voice strained, “Louis’ crying.”

“Yes.”

“When people are crying, are you supposed to talk to them?”

The Doctor blinked and turned to him, eyes wider. “I have absolutely no idea.”

In trepidation, Harry went over to join Louis by the window. The other man spoke first, not removing his gaze from the people inside. “My sister's family. They're so happy.”

“They look poor,” Harry said. Immediately he regretted his words, though Louis didn’t appear bothered.

“They are poor,” he said, simply. He turned to Harry. “Doesn't mean you can't be happy.”

From inside, the older man’s voice rose above the bustle, “Close the curtains.” The view into the happy family scene was cut off.

After a moment, Harry asked, “Why aren't you? Happy?”

Louis sighed and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Because this is the life I can never have.”

“Why not?”

When he felt the soft warmth of Louis’ hand slip into his, he turned his face to his in shock. Louis squeezed his hand tighter.

“I think you're blushing again.”

He was.

The curtains behind the windows were pulled apart in that instant to reveal the Doctor’s face, smiling against the glass.

“Come in,” he mouthed, voice muffled from inside.

The small family meal was like nothing Harry had ever experienced. The hustle and bustle of the cosy kitchen was comforting, the warmth and familiarity in the smiles around the table doing more to welcome him that all the grandeur in the Manor House put together.

For a second he felt himself overcome with jealousy for something he never knew he was missing.

His gaze met Louis', next to him at the table, and he forgot it in an instant.

Opposite him at the table the Doctor looked to be attempting to perform a card trick on Louis’ nephew.

“Pick a card. Any card at all.”

Harry watched distractedly as Louis and his sister whispered to each other, certain that their words were not for his ears, but listening on in any case.

“Every Christmas Eve? I don't understand,” Mrs Dosett asked in wonder.

“I'm not sure I do, either,” Louis admitted.

“Is this what it looked like last year?” Mr Dosett called from where he was decorating the Christmas tree.

“It doesn't have to be exactly the same,” Mrs Dosett replied with a doting smile.

Her husband shook his head, staring at the tree with a critical eye. “No, I'm starting again. Come on, Harry, two heads are better than one.”

Immediately Harry rose to help, keeping one ear open to Louis’ conversation as he concentrated on keeping the spiral of his tinsel even.

Mrs Dosett asked in hushed tones, “That's Styles’ boy, isn't it?”

“He's not like his father,” Louis defended.

“His father treats everyone like cattle. One day that boy will do the same.”

“No,” Louis cut in. “He's different.”

“I see him around the town sometimes. Never any friends.”

Harry blushed a dark red, trying to concentrate hard on a particularly troublesome bauble.

“He's got me,” he heard Louis say.

“All those Christmas Eves, you never once came to see us.”

“I'm here now.”

“Then stay,” Mrs Dosett pleaded. “Stay for tomorrow. Have Christmas dinner with us.”

“I can't.”

“Well, then,” Mrs Dosett sounded put out. She raised her voice, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Tomorrow's Christmas dinner is cancelled, as my brother refuses to attend.”

“Nellie,” Louis objected, a horrified expression morphing his features.

“Instead,” she continued. “We'll have it tonight.” She flicked Louis’ ear as he bit down on a smile, looking suitably mollified.

A fond tug pulled in Harry’s stomach. He wanted to stay here forever, where Louis was happy and loved and free.

Later, crowded around a table covered in steaming plates of food, Harry let out a loud peel of laughter as the Doctor counted down, “Three, two, one, pull!”

The sound of many crackers snapping filled the air, small streams of confetti falling across the table. He smiled as Louis placed a paper hat on his head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. His skin tingled where Louis had touched him.

Before he knew entirely what he was doing he tapped his fork against his glass, the light chime cutting across the happy murmur of conversation.

Everyone’s face turned to him and he stammered out a slightly hoarse, “Merry Christmas.”

The sound of five voice celebrating a ‘Merry Christmas’ answered him. Under the table, Louis reached for his hand, entwining their fingers together.

Back in the Cryovault Louis turned to him with a gleeful smile. “Best Christmas Eve ever,” he said, cheeks bunched up, rosy against the cold.

“Ah,” the Doctor crowed. “‘Till the next one.”

Louis inclined his head. “I look forward to it. Now I'd like to say goodnight to Harry.”

“Of course, yes. Well, on you go.” The Doctor waited for a moment, while Louis continued to look at him, expectantly. “Oh!” the Doctor gasped, catching on. Harry could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “Oh. Yes. Right. Sorry. I'll, er, I'll go, then. Goodnight.” The Doctor clapped Harry’s shoulder, giving him a small nod. “Good luck. Night. Goodnight.”

He walked backwards, an obvious smile creeping onto his face, and backed into another Cryochamber. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled to the sleeping occupant. Harry watched with a strange sense of fear as he headed further down the row.

He turned to Louis, feeling a little shaky. “Just, give me a second,” he said and ran down the row towards the Doctor.

“Doctor,” he panted, ignoring the other man’s puzzled expression. “I, er, I think he's going to kiss me.”

The Doctor looked around his shoulder to where Louis was waiting by his Cryochamber. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

“I've never kissed anyone before. What do I do?”

With a sombre nod the Doctor suggested, “Well, try and be all nervous and rubbish and a bit shaky.”

“What?” Harry rushed. Oh, God, he was sweating. This was terrible. “Why?”

The Doctor grabbed both his shoulders, giving him a small shake. “Because you're going to be like that anyway. Might as well make it part of the plan, then it'll feel on purpose. Off you go, then.” He pushed him back towards the end of the room.

“What, now?” Harry questioned, in a panic. “I kiss him now?”

“Harry, trust me. It's this or go to your room and design a new kind of screwdriver. Don't make my mistakes. Now, go.”

He was nervous and rubbish and a bit shaky, but it was also one of the most wonderful moments that he could remember. Louis was sweet and soft against him, hands running through his hair, lips warm and tender. If he could spend every Christmas Eve for the rest of his life doing the same, he could be happy.

~

**Hollywood, California, Earth ~ 1952**

000002

Back in the lodge, the party was in full swing. Harry’s shoes crunched against the artfully laid gravel as he made his way past the garden, towards the empty swimming pool. He could see Louis in the distance, his dark suit standing out against the patio. He was a solitary figure, staring down at the water. He looked like a work of art.

“Louis, are you coming back?” he called, making his way around the edge of the pool. The light in the water danced along the bottom of the pool. “The Doctor is going to do a duet with Frank.” He was having fun this year, happy to spend as much of the day with Louis as possible. He’d thought Louis was equally as happy. When he drew level with the other man, however, he could see the redness to his eyes, glistening in the twinkling party lights. “Louis? What's wrong?”

Louis sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I have something to tell you,” he said, reaching out to take Harry’s hand.

“A bad thing?” Harry said quietly, his stomach filling with dread.

Louis pulled him close. “A very bad thing.” He hardly had to raise his voice above a whisper, his breath fanning across Harry’s cheek. Harry was taller than him now, he fit perfectly against Harry’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“The truth.”

And the truth is what he told. And it broke Harry’s heart. And he loved him more than he thought he could love anyone.

He kissed Louis then, wrapping his arm around his small waist, fingers pressed tightly to his skin, his hand curled the back of his neck, brushing lightly against the soft hairs there. Louis pressed close to him and they breathed each other in. He cherished the taste of Louis on his lips, desperate to commit it to his memory.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, voice cracking, as they broke apart.

Louis cradled Harry’s face in his hands, bringing their forehead to rest against each other's. “There's nothing to be done.”

“Oh, blimey.” The Doctor’s voice floated towards them. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been so disappointed to see him. “Thank heavens I found you,” the Doctor announced, a slightly frantic look in his eye. He must not have noticed the closed expression on either of their faces as he continued to stumbled over his words. “We've really got to go quite quickly. I just accidentally got engaged to Marilyn Monroe. She's phoned a chapel. There's a car outside. This is happening now.” He straightened his collar where it had been pulled aside, lipstick covering his neck. “I really must stop getting myself into these situations.”

When Louis stepped back inside his Cryochamber, it was several long moments before Harry could bring himself to let go of his hand.

“Goodnight, Louis,” he said, softly, his glassy eyes meeting Louis.

Louis smiled at him, a terrible, heartbroken smile. “Goodnight, Harry.”

When the Cryochamber was shut, Louis’ face became still and frozen once more. Ice lingered on his eyelashes, dusting his hair.

Harry continued to stare through the window as the Doctor spoke. “There we go. Another day, another Christmas Eve. I'll see you in a minute, yeah?” The Doctor stopped himself, laughing a little. “I mean, a year.”

“Doctor?” Harry muttered, jaw flexing. He turned to face the other man. “Listen, why don't we leave it?”

“Sorry, leave what?”

“Oh, you know,” Harry waved a hand over his shoulder. “This. Every Christmas Eve.” He shrugged. “It's getting a bit old.”

“‘Old’?” The Doctor repeated. He looked lost. Harry felt sick with himself.

“Well, Christmas is for kids, isn't it? I've got some work with my father now. I'm going to focus on that.” He nodded. “Get that cloud belt under control.”

The Doctor paused for a moment before saying, his voice wavering a little, “Sorry, I didn't realise I was boring you.”

“Not your fault,” Harry replied, shortly. He coughed, hoping to keep his own voice steady. “Times change.”

“Not as much as I'd hoped, Harry.” The Doctor sighed. “I'll be needing a new one, anyway. What the hell.” He extended his hand, holding his half broken screwdriver for Harry to take.

It took everything Harry had in him not to break down and cry, beg the Doctor for help. No one could help them. Not even a man with a time machine.

“Merry Christmas. And if you ever need me, just activate it. I'll hear you.”

He took the screwdriver and in a quiet voice, lied, “I won't need you.”

The Doctor groaned. “What's happened? What are you not telling me?” he urged. “What about Louis?”

Harry blinked, willing the heat behind his eyes to vanished. “I know where to find him,” he croaked.

The Doctor’s eyes travelled across his face. He looked as sad as Harry has ever seen him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, you do.”

000001

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4362**

Bedford Styles placed a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Another Christmas Eve, Harry,” he announced, formal as always even with just the two of them in the room. “But a very special one. It's complete.”

They were gathered around the cloud machine

“Look at it,” his father ordered, a smug grin on his face. “Sound waves. As simple as that.” He clicked his fingers. “We can control the clouds, the fog, the fish.”

Harry stared at the machine with a heavy heart. “Why do we want to control the fish?” he asked, though he already knew what his father would say.

“People are cattle,” his father grunted. “If you want to control cattle, you need to control their predators. What's the face for?” he groused upon seeing Harry’s uneasy frown. “Look what I'm giving you. The sky, and everything beneath it. Only you and I can control this. This planet is ours.”

Harry bit his lip. “Excuse me, Father,” he said quietly before rushing to the door. He could feel his father’s eyes follow his out of the room.

Once he reached his room he pulled open his desk drawer, fumbling in his haste to find the broken half of the Doctor’s screwdriver. When he felt his fingers wrap around the cool metal, he closed his eyes. He knew what this would mean.

On lifting his eyelids, he was greeted to a familiar figure standing outside his bedroom window. The Doctor stared at him, hopeful and sad. Harry knew that he was a disappointment. He’d disappointed his father, and now he’d disappointed the Doctor.

He threw the screwdriver back into the drawer and slammed it shut. When he pulled his curtain across the window, he couldn’t meet the Doctor’s eyes. He stared at his feet, shutting the Doctor out of his life for one last time.

~

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

The telephone rang and Harry glared at it for several long moments. After it appeared that none of the servants that he paid money to were going to do their jobs he stalked over and picked up the receiver with a scowl.

“Yes, what?” he snapped. “Oh, Mister President, we've been through this. It's not going to crash on my house, so what's it got to do with me?” he growled. “Yes, I know. Four thousand and three. As a very old friend of mine once took a very long time to explain, life isn't fair.” He was almost shouting by the time he slammed the telephone back into place, angry at everyone, the Doctor most of all.

In an instant he rose to his feet, his legs taking him down, down, down, to the very bowels of the Manor. The door to the Cryovault looked the same as it did in his memories. His new memories. Even as he stamped in the code, he cursed himself for being so weak. This wasn’t him. Those memories weren’t him. Louis never loved him. He loved a different Harry, a Harry that didn’t exist anymore. That hadn’t existed in the first place.

“Hello.”

Harry started, stumbling as he crossed the threshold into the vault.

Ahead of him, in the middle of the row, a young man stood. He had a bright, kind face. The serious expression that sat there looked ill suited.

“Who are you?” Harry half shouted, horrified at the idea of someone in here. In his vault, with his - “What are you doing here?”

“You didn't think this was over, did you?” the figure asked. “I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present.” At Harry’s unimpressed glare, he continued. “Well, Liam. Liam Payne. I’m one of the people you’re going to let die tonight.”

“Right. A ghost.” Harry scoffed. “Please. What are you here for?”

“This.”

Harry frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

Around him, the room began to fill with the voices of hundreds of people, all singing at once. Images of those singing flickered around him, as if a crowd of people had joined him in his vault.

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright, round yon virgin mother and child, Holy infant so tender and mild.”

“They're holograms,” Liam explained, as Harry stared at him, resolutely ignoring the false figures around him. “Projections, like me.”

Harry shifted. “Who are they?”

“The people on the ship up there. The ones that will die.”

“Why are they singing?”

Liam sent him a small smile. “For their lives,” he said, softly. He looked along the row of Cryochambers, and Harry felt a small stirring of possessiveness deep in his chest. “Which one's Louis?” he asked. “The Doctor told me.”

“Did he now?” Harry locked his jaw. This Liam could go to hell. All these people could go to Hell. None of them were worth losing Louis.

“Ah, he doesn't hold back. You know the Doctor.

This stirred something in Harry. “How do I?” he asked, wanting an answer. He didn’t understand how one man could’ve changed so much in his life. “I never met him before tonight. But I think I’ve known him all my life. How? Why?”

Liam let out a heavy breath. “You're the only person who can let that ship land. He was trying to turn you into a nicer person.” He smiled. “And he was trying to do it nicely.”

“He's changed my past, my whole life,” Harry said, traitorous voice cracking.

“Time can be rewritten.”

Harry roared, “You tell the Doctor, you tell him from me, _people_ can't.”

He stalked through the crowd of still singing holograms, causing them to vanish, the silence of the Cryovault restored once more. He headed towards his Cryochamber. The one he visited every year. The second from the end.

“That's Louis?” Liam asked.

Harry hated him for asked. Hated him for speaking Louis’ name. For knowing his weakness.

“I would never have known him if the Doctor hadn't changed the course of my whole life to suit himself.”

“Well, that's good, isn't it?” Liam asked.

Beyond the tiny window in the door of the Cryochamber, Louis hadn’t aged a day. He slept peacefully, his pale skin sprinkled with frost. The heart beneath his chest frozen. Harry longed to reach out to him, for his skin to feel warm to the touch.

“No.”

This Liam character didn’t seem to know when to shut up. “Why is he still in there?” he asked. “You could let him out any time.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry laughed, void of any humour. “Any time at all. Any time I choose.”

“Then why don't you?”

“This is what the Doctor did to me,” Harry yelled, rounding on Liam. “Louis was ill when he went into the ice. On the point of death. I suppose the rest in the ice helped him. But he's used up his time. All those Christmas Eves with me.” He turned his back on the other man to lean back against Louis’ door. “I could release him any time I want, and he would live a single day,” he spoke quietly, now, as if Louis could hear him. “So tell me, Ghost of Christmas Present, how do I choose which day?”

The other man stayed quiet for a long time. Harry prayed that he had given up and left him alone.

Of course he hadn’t. Him and the Doctor. They couldn’t just let it lie.

“I'm sorry. I really am. I'm very, very sorry. But you know what? He's got more time left than I have. More than anyone on this ship.”

Angry heat rose behind Harry’s eyes. He felt tears running down his cheeks as he snarled, “Good.”

Behind him, Liam sighed and said, “Zayn, widen the beam.”

Louis’ face disappeared from in front of him and Harry felt the injustice of it all too much. He blinked, wiping his face as he took in his new surroundings. He was on a ship, some sort of luxury cruise liner, all white walls and sleek furnishings. It was far from luxurious, however, half of the ship in pieces, sparks flying all around, turbulence throwing the passengers from side to side.

A women wearing the Captain’s uniform was hunched over the controls, face focused on the viewing screen ahead of them.

“How did I get here?” Harry demanded.

Liam shrugged. “You didn't. It's your turn to be the hologram. Since you're going to let a lot of people die, I thought you might like to see where it's all going to happen.”

Over the speakers he could hear the same voices singing that had been projected to the Cryovault. It reminded him of Louis. It hurt.

“The singing,” he asked. “What is it? I don't understand.”

“It's the Doctor's idea,” one of the other men on the bridge answered him. He looked exhausted underneath darker skin. His hair drooped, lank across his forehead, like the life had gone out of it. “The harmonies resonate in the ice crystals, that's why the fish like it. He thought maybe it would stabilise the ship. But it isn't working. It's not powerful enough.”

“Why are they still singing, then?”

“Because we haven't told them,” the Captain explained, voice resigned. “Sir, I understand you have a machine that controls this cloud layer. If you can release us from it, we still have time to make a landing. Nobody has to die.”

“Everybody has to die,” Harry replied.  

“Not tonight,” Liam said.

Harry shrugged. “Tonight's as good as any other. How do you choose?”

“Doctor?”

The Doctor’s voice responded, sounding a million miles away, and right beside him. “Yeah?”

“Are you hearing this?” Liam called out into the air.

“I can hear.”

Harry darted his eyes around the deck. “He's here? Where is he?” He couldn’t see him. “Doctor?”

In the blink of an eye, Harry was back in the Cryovault, back with Louis. The Doctor was there. Just like every Christmas Eve Harry could remember, before he lost his love.

“Doctor!” Harry shouted. He didn’t know what he wanted from him. He didn’t know what the Doctor could do. But he was here, so Harry would shout at him.

“I'm sorry,” the Doctor said. And, God, he looked it. The bastard had the nerve to truly look it. “I didn't realise.”

Harry almost growled. “All my life, I've been called heartless. My other life, my real life,” he jeered. “The one you rewrote. Now look at me.”

“Better a broken heart than no heart at all.”

“Oh, try it. You try it,” Harry yelled. “Why are you here?”

The Doctor licked his lips, a pained expression painting his pleasant features. “Because I'm not finished with you yet. You've seen the past, the present, and now you need to see the future.”

His words washed over Harry. “Fine. Do it. Show me,” he almost begged. He wanted this over. He wanted this to end. “I'll die cold, alone and afraid. Of course I will. We all do. What difference does showing me make?” He took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you know why I'm going to let those people die? It's not a plan. I don't get anything from it. It's just that I don't care,” he sneered, relishing the words. “I'm not like you. I don't even want to be like you. I don't and never, ever will care.”

The Doctor stood, resolute. “And I don't believe that.”

“Then show me the future,” Harry shouted. “Prove me wrong.”

“I am showing it to you. I'm showing it to you right now,” the Doctor looked almost sorry as shifted his gaze to a point a few metres behind Harry. “So what do you think? Is this who you want to become, Harry?”

Harry spun on his feet, eyes falling upon a small boy, as familiar to him as his own reflection.

His younger self looked on at him in horror. Harry surged forward. He was angry, so angry, so wronged. He raised his hand, hardly thinking.

“Father?” the young boy asked, fear in his voice.

With one word Harry remembered. He remembered what it was to be that boy, hopeful and honest and caring. It felt his memories change, he saw himself in the boy’s place, fearful and lost, looking upon his own features, twisted and deformed with cruelty.

He dropped his hand and fell to the floor. “I'm sorry,” he cried. “I'm so sorry.” He reached out to the younger boy, relieved beyond words when he stepped forward into his arms. “It's okay, don't be frightened,” he soothed as he held the small boy close. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Harry.” The two of the looked up to the Doctor. His eyes were fixed and focused. “We don't have much time.”

~

**The Landport, 2,962 Metres Above Sea Level, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

Liam gripped the back of the pilot’s chair tightly, bracing himself as the ship plunged forward.

The Co-pilot announced to the bridge, “Structural integrity at thirty percent.”

“We have five minutes max,” the Captain said. She sent a strained look Liam’s way. “We _need_ to land.”

A second later the view screen crackled to life. An image of the Doctor’s head burst onto the screen in full colour. “Hello? Hello?” he called. Liam could almost feel the relief filling up his body at the Doctor’s smile. “Ah, hello, everyone. Prepare to lock onto my signal.”

“Niall,” he yelled. “What's happening?”

The Doctor simply winked. “I just saved Christmas. Don't go away.”

The image vanished as the ship continued to fall from the sky. “Niall?” Liam yelled at the empty screen. “Doctor!”

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Victoriana ~ 4383**

Harry rushed to the cloud machine, still tucked away in the corner, its power hidden from view.

“We good to go, then?” the Doctor asked, knelt by his side. The younger Harry stared at the machine in amazement. With a punch to his gut, Harry remembered how unbelievable it felt, to see his father’s designs come to life.

He flicked the switch that would clear the clouds away, allowing the ship to land.

Nothing happened.

His heart dropped in his chest. “The controls.” He turned to the Doctor. “They won't respond.”

“Of course they will,” the Doctor pouted. “They're isomorphic. They're tuned to your brainwaves. They'll only respond to you.”

Harry flicked the switch again. He glared at the Doctor, proving his point as he flicked it back and forth, nothing happening.

“They won't respond.”

The Doctor scrunched up his nose, pulling at his hair. “That doesn't make sense. That's ridiculous. Why wouldn't - Oh,” the Doctor stopped himself short and shut his eyes. Harry shared a look with his younger self. “Oh, of course. Stupid, stupid Doctor.”

“What's wrong?” Harry urged. “Tell me, what is it?”

“It's you,” the Doctor groaned. “It's you. I've changed you too much. The machine doesn't recognise you.”

“But - But my father programmed it,” he stammered. He needed to clear the clouds. He needed to help those people.

“No, your father would never have programmed it for the man you are now.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Er, I don't know.” The Doctor stood up, pacing up and down, and wringing his hands. “I don't know.”

From beside the machine the young Harry pleaded, “There must be something.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, before he remembered, that first Christmas Eve. He rushed to his study, the Doctor calling out his name as he vanished. This could help, though. On reaching his desk he pulled all the doors open, papers flying everywhere. It was here, he knew it was here.

“Yes,” he rejoiced, pulling the broken screwdriver from the back of the last drawer. “ _Yes_.” He ran back to the cloud machine, a flush rising on his cheeks and he took in the Doctor’s pleased face.

“This,” he said, holding the screwdriver high. “You can use this. I kept it, see?”

“Half a screwdriver?” the Doctor said, wondrously, taking it from Harry’s outstretched palm. “With the other half up in the sky in a big old shark, right in the heart of the cloud layer. If we use your aerial to boost the signal, set up a resonation pattern between the two halves. Oh, come on,” the Doctor grinned. “That would work. That could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Well, my screwdriver is still trying to repair. It's signalling itself. We use the signal, but we send something else.”

“Send what?” Young Harry asked, breathlessly.

The Doctor’s paused, eyes flicking to Harry. “Well, what?” he asked, thrumming with excitement. “What?”

The Doctor grimaced. “I'm sorry, Harry. I truly am.”

He frowned, shaking his head a little. He looked to his young counterpart for an explanation he didn’t fine. “I - I don't understand.”

“We need to transmit something into the cloud belt,” the Doctor said. “Something we _know_ works. We need him to sing.”

Down in the Cryovault the cold fog reached out to him, greeting him like an old friend. His toes stung in his shoes and, oh, couldn’t the day they first met. The day they rescued the fish. What fun they’d had. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready for this.

Nearby the Doctor’s voice came softly, not softly enough. “His voice resonates perfectly with the ice crystals,” he said. “It calmed the shark. It will calm the sky, too.”

Harry took a deep breath. In front of him, the small window framed Louis’ face. Sweet and gentle. What would he say? Louis? If Harry could ask him? He knew the answer. He’d known the answer from the moment the Doctor had asked.

“Could you do it?” he said, his words weak and wavering. “Could you do this?” He turned to the Doctor. “Think about it, Doctor. One last day with the only person you’ve ever loved. The only person who ever truly loved you.” Harry could feel his lips trembled as he asked, “Which day would you choose?”

The Doctor reached for the Cryochamber door. Harry let his eyes fall shut, tears spilling down onto his cheeks.

“Christmas,” the Doctor said. “I’d choose Christmas Day.”

000000

He winced a the sound of the Cryochamber door opening. He could feel the frozen air hit his face. He could feel the closeness of another body.

Louis was there. At last. Louis was with him again.

“Look at you,” his voice was crisp and clear, not at all like he’d been asleep for decades. Harry opened his eyes, welcoming the sight of Louis, so close to him he could see the still frozen flakes of snow on his eyelashes. He let out a shaking breath. Louis smiled, reaching out to wipe away the tears on his cheek. “You're older. You waited a long time, didn't you?”

“It’s been -” Harry started, voice thick. He hardly knew what to say. Wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist, he pressed his lips to Louis’ cheek, like he’d dreamt of for so many years. “I haven’t - For twenty years -” his voice caught in his throat. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

Louis smiled at him, twinkling eyes travelling across his face as he ran his hands through Harry’s hair, just like he used to. “And you’ve been alone? All that time? You daft thing.”

“But if you leave the ice now,” Harry said. He shook his head. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“Then we won’t,” Louis replied, simply. “We've had so many Christmas Eves, Harry. I think it's time for Christmas Day.”

Harry broke his gaze. “I love you,” he told the cold, misty floor, meekly. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

“Oh, Harry.” Louis pulled his chin up so Harry could see his smile. “I love you, too,” he said. He looked so young, so earnest. “Let’s make it count.”

**The Landport, 2,813 Metres Above Sea Level, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

“Niall!” Liam shouted at the viewing screen, trying to summon the Doctor through pure force of will.

“We can't hold this,” the Captain yelled at the controls. “Time's up. We're going down.”

“Niall!”

“Captain!” the Co-pilot shouted over the noise of their rushing descent. “I've got -” She frowned, blinked down at her monitor. “I don't know what I've got.”

Next to him Zayn shoved him, nodding his head towards the speakers. Liam frowned, but once he began to listen, he could hear something. It was - It was singing.

“What is that?” the Captain asked. “What are you listening to?”

The Pilot shook his head, looking confused. “This is coming from outside. This is coming from the actual clouds.”

The turbulence smoothed to a stop and Liam clambered to the monitor. The song filled the airways. He sank down to the ground, letting the delicate voice wash over him, his heart rate calming for the first time in a long while.  

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Victoriana ~ 4383**

The rooftop was cold, the twinkling lights of the town stretching out across the snowy landscape below. The Doctor had connected his half of the screw driver to the transmitter in Harry’s father’s dome - his father’s, it was never his, not anymore - and Louis sang into it. His voice, clear and bright and beautiful sounded across the whole town, up to the sky and into the night beyond.

“A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices.”

“Well?” Harry asked. He needed to know that it worked. That it was worth it. “Doctor?”

The Doctor held the hand of his younger self and smiled over to him. “The singing resonates in the crystals,” he said, as Louis sang on next to them. “It's feeding back and forth between the two halves of the screwdriver. Now, one song, filling the sky. The crystals will align and I'll feed in a controlled phase loop, and the clouds will unlock.”

“What does that mean, unlock?” Harry asked. “What happens when a cloud unlocks?”

The Doctor’s voice was almost awed as he said, “Something that hasn't happened in this town for a very long time now.”

“Fall on your knees,” Louis sang.

Harry stared, watching as the clouds parted. “Yes.”

Louis sang and Harry stared, their hands reaching out to meet one another, entwined against the cold.

**The Landport, 2,814 Metres Above Sea Level, Planet Victoriana ~ 4383**

“ _Oh, hear the angel voices._ ”

“We're flying normally,” the Pilot announced to the dumbfounded crew.  

The Captain leant forward. “Can you land?” she asked.

With a disbelieving laugh, the Pilot nodded. “I can even land well!”

“Oh, he did it.” Liam rested his head back against the wall, eyes shut for a moment. “Niall did it.”

“With about two seconds to spare, as per usual,” Zayn grumbled next to him, looking like he was about to be sick. “Almost had a heart attack. Remind me never to go on a cruise with you again. Jesus.”

Liam barked out a laugh and squeezed Zayn’s shoulder, listening to the gentle melody as they made to land.

**The Manor House, Stylestown, Victoriana ~ 4383**

The snow was heavier now, the skies above teaming with fish. It was just like he’d imagined it would be, when he was a child. It was beautiful.

“Oh night, oh night, divine.”

Overhead, the familiar shadow of the shark swam through the cloud.

Harry smiled, from where he was pressed close to Louis. “Hello, my old friend,” he muttered, breath falling warm and close to Louis’ cool skin.

“Noel, noel.”

“Let's go,” he heard the Doctor whisper to the boy Harry used to be, leading him towards the Tardis.  

“Oh night, divine.”

He watched the blue box vanished into the air, leaving a swirl of snow behind it, and Harry’s memories firmly fixed. He squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his face to press close to Louis’ neck. The other man sang on, wrapping his hand around Harry’s. They stayed together as the snow fell around them.

~

Liam found the Doctor a while later, sitting against a street lamp, staring at the small school of fish swimming in circles around the light.

He waited for a moment, trying to think what to say. He gave up in the end. It was too hard to guess with the Doctor sometimes. “Niall?” he asked. “Are you - Are you okay?”

The Doctor sent him a wide smile. “Of course I'm okay. You?”

“‘Course.” He nodded up to the sky. “It'll be their last day together, won't it?”

“Everything has got to end sometime,” he said. “Otherwise nothing would ever get started.”

It wasn’t really an answer. That alone told Liam that the Doctor was upset. He didn’t know how to cheer him up.

Zayn came up beside him then, hands tucked into this pockets, ineffective at shielding him from the cold. “Your phone was ringing,” he said to the Doctor. “Someone called Marilyn. Actually sounds like _the_ Marilyn,” he added, sounding a little in awe.

“Niall?” Liam raised his eyebrows.  

The Doctor bit down on a smile before jumping to his feet. “Tell her I'll phone her back,” he said to Zayn. “And that was never a real chapel.”

The three of them headed towards where the Tardis was parked down a small side street, deep blue at odds to the swirling white snow.

“Where are they?” Liam asked, boots crunching underfoot. “Harry and Louis?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Off on a little trip, I should think.”

“Where?”

“Christmas.”

Liam frowned. “Christmas?”

“Yeah, Christmas.” The Doctor sent him a small smile as he opened the Tardis door. “Halfway out of the dark.”

**Author's Note:**

> About the violence against a child warning - there is one scene where a young Harry is hit around the face by his father.
> 
> About the terminal illness warning - Louis suffers from a terminal illness, and has a limited number of days left to live, though he does not die within the timeframe of the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you want to watch the episode (do it!) you can find it here, ['A Christmas Carol'](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2d5hj4_doctor-who-s05-a-christmas-carol_tv).


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